


Memetroduction

by Spumoni_BerryBoney



Series: Path to the Meme Team [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Another Connor Navigating Being Deviant, At least he still has memes, Because clearly there isn't enough, Even if they're outdated, Hank is still Sad, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Supportive Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Supportive Hank Anderson, idk I update it when I have time, listen I can't predict future memes, not going to try, probably going to be another slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 17:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16664992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spumoni_BerryBoney/pseuds/Spumoni_BerryBoney
Summary: Connor just moved in with Hank, and is trying to navigate the wild world of "Emotions." Within the first day, inadvertently, Hank puts the android on the path to trying to understand humor first with the power of old internet memes, vines, YouTubers, and all that jazz.It's only a matter of time before other Millennials, and some Centennials, aid in this truly glorious goal.Will now be a series of one-shots in which the chosen materials are going to be based around whatever form of internet humor happens to be tickling my fancy that particular day. Prepare to be unimpressed, to roll your eyes, and also watch these two nerds fall in love. Slowly.





	Memetroduction

“Lieutenant Anderson, you are certain this is acceptable?” Connor asked, still standing on the doorstep leading into the old man's home. Connor was in his standard-issue RK800 suit, his own struggles with understanding his deviancy and what it meant to him resulting in Connor clinging to the familiarity of the outfit. 

“Sure, why the Hell not?” Hank drawled, halfway into his living room and squatting down to pet Sumo. The dog shoved his face into the man's hands, the token slobbering of a Saint Bernard quickly coating Hank's fingers. Not that he seemed to mind. 

“Very well.” Connor nodded his head, and took his first step into his new home. Though he had been inside before, a compulsive **need** to Analyze had his eyes swiveling around the room, his sensors focused on what was different from before. The room was not quite as messy, the old boxes of takeout and pizza in a pile instead of strewn around. Pausing, assessing, wanting to find more clues to reconstruct why Hank would hastily try to clean -

“Damnit Connor, stop that! This is your _home_ , not a crime scene! For fuck's sake.” Hank’s scolding wasn't his angry intonation - Connor spent enough time with the human to recognise it as the shameful sort. The android pausing, his head tilting just slightly to the right trying to identify what Hank had to feel ashamed of. 

“My apologies, Lieutenant.” Connor browsed through his folders and files on Hank, flipping through the tabs to find any immediate explanations. None sufficed, and he opted to leave pursuing the mystery of the Semi-Cleaned Takeout for later. When he had more clues. 

Hank stood up from petting Sumo, lifting his hand and wiping it on his pants. His eyes were more focused on the ground, not quite meeting the android’s gaze. “Even in deviancy you can't quite stop your programming, huh?” The softness of his speech, the distracted manners - subtleties of Hank's concern that came in flashes. 

The question was rhetorical, but Connor decided to answer anyway. A certain sort of rush came with learning with and about the lieutenant, one that hovered around in his mind pre-deviancy. Now that emotions or errors or _whatever_ they were the experience was that much more powerful, sweeping Connor along with it suddenly and wonderfully.

“Consider that to be closer to a habit picked up from work. Such as when retail or restaurant employees greet others outside of work as if they are still at work.” Connor explained, his lips twitching. They'd move forward, almost to a pucker, before spreading wide and trying to decide how wide or soft to spread. Eventually, teeth would peek out in a slight grin as Connor settled on that sort of smile. Because smiling to appease humans was one thing - smiling because of feelings was entirely new.

“Welcome to Good Burger, Home of the Good Burger…” Hank mumbled, his own lips twitching slightly between the memory and watching Connor’s mouth move. The way the android was learning how to process and then how to output his feelings was… well, adorable was a word. There was no other way to put it. Connor would get happy about something. Then he'd get excited about that feeling. Then even more excited that he felt happiness and excitement, that he could feel _two_ things at once.

This was working towards one such of those moments. Luckily for Hank's tired soul, Connor would quickly settle himself instead of becoming a euphoric mess. Or overload from… catching feels. 

Or whatever, Hank hadn't a clue how this worked. Watching Connor, it seemed the android wasn't that much more knowledgeable about it.

“Did you use to work somewhere called Good Burger, Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor inquired.

“... so the prophecy really has come to pass.” Hank sighed. “The nineties kids really are the only ones who remember. Most advanced fucking piece of human technology doesn't even get the reference.”

“Reference? Shall I run a sear-” Connor had learned the unpredictability of humans, but it was the surprise jump from Sumo that reminded Connor that humans were animals, and all animals were unpredictable… which included dogs.

“Whoa! Sumo! Down! _Down_!” Hank tried to order the massive dog off of Connor, of whom moved his arms into a defensive position over his vulnerable areas as he fell to the ground with a Saint Bernard jumping on him. The dog made loud sniffs, aggressively seeking a human scent on something that wasn't quite human. Sumo recognized Connor’s voice, the sounds of his movements. The dog, however, was progressively coming to terms with the fact this ‘human’ lacked a distinctive scent of its own. But it _had_ to have a scent. Right? “Shit, Connor, you got treats in your pockets? _C'mon_ Sumo!” Through gritted teeth, Hank managed to drag the dog off of Connor. Still on the ground, arms positioned to guard his chest and head, Connor watched Sumo warily.

There was the option to punch the animal away, to guarantee his safety. Two issues came with that. One, Connor was attached to the animal. Two, Hank loved the dog, and Connor couldn't hurt anything that made Hank slightly less miserable. If he got a bit dented being jumped on by the curious animal, that was fine. 

“Connor? You okay down there?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” Connor confirmed, taking this to mean Sumo was under control once more. The dog, having been scolded and pulled away from his curiosity, now lazily walked away to hop on the couch. Pushing himself to a sitting position, the android paused seeing Hank's hand offered to help him resume standing. Mouth twitching, a slight smile at the gesture, and Conner accepted it.

“You do realize you can just call me Hank, right? You know that's a thing? We're… roommates.” The elderly man paused, as if recalling something, a grin of his own struggling to show itself. As he walked towards his couch he muttered, “And they were roommates,” the implication of quoting behind his speech. But of what?

Cross-referencing roommates, there was so much possible material! So many mismatched roommate sitcoms the last half century!

Completely caught up in trying to understand Hank's words, the android failed to respond. The silence had Hank peering over at Connor, trying to decide if he really wanted to get off the couch cushion next to Sumo to check on the other. 

“Connor?”

“Oh, yes Lieutenant Hank?” Connor asked, snapping back to his full attention on the human. The mesh of his job position and first name gave Hank pause, momentarily derailing his thoughts. 

“No, Connor. Just Hank. No ‘lieutenant.’ This is home, not work.” Shaking his head, he tried to recall. He wanted to ask the android something. _Are you comfortable? Would you know comfortable if you felt it? How do you know the emotion you're feeling, if you never felt it before? Is Markus like the Moses of androids? He gonna do the Ten Commandments, but instead it'll be the Three Laws of Robotics? Does that make Isaac Asimov the true rA9? Connor, are you aware you've sinned, because you shot plenty of people… wait, no, fuck I'm not asking him shit, am I? What did I want to know again?_

As Hank meandered in his thoughts, Connor reached into his pocket to withdraw his quarter to roll out between fingers. Moving the coin using physics, focusing on maintaining the right momentum. Sumo's surprise tackle inflicted just enough fear the excitement he had been feeling was gone, replaced by the android’s standard calm. 

“Are you in screensaver mode?” Hank asked, brows furrowing slightly. The fiddling with the coin was annoying, but at this point the human had to know. If the coin thing was like a screensaver mode, he would have to learn to live with it. Or ask if there was a way to change the settings. Was massaging a tired old man's back a possible screensaver mode? Probably not, but even if it was he wouldn't have allowed it. That was exploitive.

Would have been nice, though. 

“Screensaver mode? Like the old computers?” Connor inquired, still playing with the quarter. Hank considered taking offense, pointing out that at the rate technology had been advancing Connor would be considered ‘old’ in a few months…

…but Hank felt too unnerved regarding Connor as a computer. Not only was the idea degrading, but equally Hank never quite recovered from crashing one of his own earlier computers back in the days of Limewire.

 _It's been eighty-four years since Limewire_ … wait, Hank suddenly realized, mid-Titanic mental reference that if he wasn't careful that thought would evolve from meme to truth. What year did Limewire come out? He felt panicked - it certainly felt like it was eighty-four years ago. 

Reaching into his pocket, Hank began fumbling with his new phone. Connor observed him quietly. Before then, his interactions with Hank were almost purely in a work environment. The exceptions being when Hank was drunk and depressed, and when the other… 

Connor's head turned slightly to the side, his eyes still on Hank, only to have his head slide back to center. Then the turn again, sliding once more to center, all the while his chest felt tight and he didn't know why -

“Fucking Hell Alexa! What year did Limewire release?!”

“Now playing, ‘Live Wire’ by Mötley Crüe…” The voice on the holographic phone chirped pleasantly, happily, automatically. 

Immediately, abiding by orders even if misunderstood. Connor's head jerked more sharply to the side, and he couldn't quite understand how he was struggling to breathe when he didn't need air. 

“NO! That's… that's a good song, but _no_. Limewire! LIMEWIRE'S RELEASE DATE! _WHEN_?” Hank took to raising his voice, as though yelling equated better enunciation. 

“Third of May, Year Two-Thousand.” Connor didn't even realize he run a quick search, said the dates until his ears registered that was his voice and not Alexa’s. 

“Thank you!” Hank cheered, and then tried to, unsuccessfully, turn off the music. When the song ended, the phone shut itself off. “That works too…” Hank grumbled, shoving the damnable thing into his pocket. “...Connor?” Hank pushed himself up, noting the twitching of the android. 

“Yes?” Connor responded, the movement of his head ceasing to give the human his full attention. The quarter still moved, the motion more afterthought than conscious decision. The tightness was gone. 

“Are you _sure_ you're okay? Sumo knocked you over. Do you feel… pain?” Hank asked hesitantly. In the past Connor specified androids didn't experience pain, but the Connor from then also didn't feel emotions. 

“Androids can't feel pain, Lieutenant.” Connor repeated, a curious glint to his eyes that the lieutenant would ask that. 

“Yeah, okay, and a few months ago you said androids don't have feelings.” Hank retorted, leaning back into his couch since whatever that was seemed to have passed. 

“That is… very true.” The android conceded. “I cannot deny that would be… impossible, as I once believed emotions were. I'll go with me developing the ability to feel physical pain as highly implausible. We have the ability to feel pressure, changes in temperature. A diagnostic program built-in, in order to assess damage that preventative measures didn't catch. These keep us from shutting down as a result of external factors that would or are damaging our biocomponents. If something touches me, I recognise if it's good or harmful from these features.” 

“So you know the difference between a good touch and a bad touch, huh?” Hank asked. 

“In simpler terms, yes.” Connor conceded, catching his quarter in the palm of his right hand and looking down at it… then brought up brown eyes to look inquisitively at the human. “Lieutenant, earlier, you asked me about a screensaver mode…?”

“A good touch, and a bad touch… you have to know the difference…” Hank said softly under his breath, a tune almost carrying with his words. 

“Lieutenant?”

“Good touch makes you feel good, bad touch makes you feel _tense_.” Hank continued, his brain racking to recall all the lyrics instead of the catchy chorus portions. Once more his hand was in his pocket, an odd sense of nostalgia hitting him. The days of finding something funny on YouTube or Reddit or Vine, may Vine rest in peace…

Of finding that hilarious clip, and excitedly telling friends they just had to see it. “Connor, c’mere, lemme just… shit, just watch.” 

What was he thinking, sharing an ancient relic from YouTube with an android? One who's humor was still in the stages of emulating what it was told was funny, no real humor of its own yet.

But that sweet nostalgia was there, that anxiety of whether or not the person he was sharing it with would like it. Those days of sending a cat that looked more done with its day than anything should ever look with a simple caption, ‘It us.’

Through some miracle, Hank got his phone to cooperate (or maybe Alexa was sentient and found Connor to be very handsome, what did Hank know) and began digging through his old YouTube account. Through all of his favourites… 

“What are you looking for? Perhaps I can -”

“I got this! Just… lemme try… aha!” Victorious, Hank held his phone flat so the holograms could play the two-dimensional video. The days of two-dimensional video. Before the gimmicky 3D and the even more gimmicky 4D. The latter always made him feel nauseous. What happened to the good ol’ days?

As instructed, Connor walked over to watch the video with Hank. The human realizing the two guys from Picnicface were so young then, while the android invested more of his attention on the video. Text at the start said it was a PSA, and one of the humans started off by stating this was a heavy subject. 

What this had to do with developing physical pain or screensavers was beyond Connor, but he trusted Hank to explain. Eventually. Sure, Connor could have looked it up. But Hank's eyes would glance from the video to Connor, as though he was anticipating a certain response from the other.

He didn't want to disappoint Hank by cheating, as it were. 

The video was not a standard PSA. In fact, Connor was beginning to suspect it was a skit. The android’s brows furrowed as his lips tightened. Next to him, watching him, was Hank who could feel a grin coming on. The way the other watched with such intensity, pausing to comment on the inappropriate parts of the song or the guitarist’s decision to try and enact these ‘bad touches’ only to stop the comment to stare more…

It had been ages since Hank could share these ancient treasures with someone new to them. 

After the video, “I don't understand how the skit was related to your questions?” Connor said, eyes glancing from the phone, trying to do a search -

“It… wasn't, Connor. Just a, a funny video that… anyway, forget it.” That surly attitude was returning, intonation indicating he was disappointed. The android's reaction wasn't what he was hoping for. Connor felt somewhat panicked. How was he supposed to have reacted? His response was wrong - what would have been right?

“I understand the video was funny -”

“You didn't laugh -”

“I understand something is intended as funny, I just don't understand how to find something funny.” Licking his lips, not wanting that brief moment of Hank's good mood to be gone, Connor bent down slightly as though to sit on the couch arm by Hank, but hesitated as he was uncertain if Hank would mind. He needed to rectify his mistake. Apparently he was supposed to laugh, but he wasn’t yet sure how. 

“For the love of.. if you want to sit, just sit!” Hank said exasperated, and though his words left the decision to the android the human took Connor's jacket and yanked him down. 

The only resistance was Connor ensuring he did not tumble onto Hank's lap. 

“I have emotions I'm still understanding, coming to terms with. Maybe. Maybe if you show me more videos like this, I'll understand?” Connor offered. Downloading the videos and playing them from Hank's favorites list would have been faster. 

But the way Hank smiled, almost gleefully at that, put a warmth in Connor's chest that he could never experience in a download.

Lost in that smile, Connor wondered if all humans were this wonderful or if he simply found himself in the home of the best human of all.

**Author's Note:**

> Today's chapter brought to you by:  
> [All That's Good Burger](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kyoy2gZowOs) (or the movie based on the sketches)  
> I'm not linking you kids to the Titanic image or Limewire's wiki page.  
> [Good Touch, Bad Touch](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lXiP76cOego) by PicnicFace.  
> Yes. I know. I should have done PowerThirst instead of this, but alas. Another time. Maybe. Probably after I finish NaNo. (Only 12k more words!!!!)
> 
> Until next time. Whenever that is.


End file.
